Fractures
by Solar Eclipse23
Summary: The Trio left to search for the Horcruxes a year ago. Meanwhile, Voldemort and his Dark Army are massing to launch an assault on Hogwarts. If lives and loves are sacrificed, can she find the man who all thought had been lost forever? RHr and HG, Pre DH.
1. On the Hunt

**Mountains around a remote village near Wengen, Switzerland:**

The air in the mountains was crisp and sharp, so much so that to breathe too deeply was painful. The rosy tint of the approaching dawn spread throughout the rolling hills, painting the emerald hills and trees with a soft sheen of gold. In the midst of the breaking dawn, in a clearing surrounded by vast spiking conifers, a small fox wandered through the underbrush, foraging quietly. She brushed her nose into a small crevice of dirt scrunched between a rock and the base of a tree, sniffing twice. The well-known scent of rodent wafted up to her. With one swift move, the fox pressed both paws down upon the tiny mouse tunnel, tossing a small squeaking rodent out into the light. The fox snatched it out of midair, breaking its neck with a quick crunch. Nosing in the dirt, she followed the scent trail further into the woods, until she found another small den. Pouncing quickly, she killed two more mice. Snapping her jaws, she settled down contentedly on the grass to finish her breakfast.

Suddenly the fox's ears shot up, and she growled softly at a spot some distance away, where some new scent had appeared. She sniffed the air, staring at the space where it originated, but could see nothing there but the trees, swaying gently in the wind. She took two steps backward, whining uneasily, when suddenly someone melted into view so suddenly it was as though they had appeared out of thin air. Squeaking in alarm, the fox seized the dead mice in her jaws and bounded away into the forest, away from the human that had so suddenly appeared, to enjoy her meal in safer quarters.

Meanwhile, the human in question looked around the clearing, his green eyes taking in the surrounding area, a long wooden stick clutched tightly in his right hand as he surveyed the scene. After detecting no immediate threat, the young man lowered his wand, calling over his shoulder to no one in particular.

"The coast's clear, you can take those off now," he said, running a hand through his untidy jet-black hair. There was a soft shimmer in the air behind him, and another person melted into existence, the colour of the forest around him shifting gradually into that of human texture. Two seconds later, a third person followed suit, this one a teenage girl, liquefying the air around her as she took shape.

The second man, the tallest of the three, shivered slightly in the cold mountain air, rubbing his arms fervently. "Damn it, I'm cold. You're sure we're close, then, Hermione? We'd better set up camp then, I doubt we want to go down there until nightfall at least."

"I know that, Ronald," the girl replied, "and yes, I'm sure we're close. However, we'd better have our story straight before we just barge in there. We've been successful until now because we've been_ careful_," she placed heavy emphasis on the word, "and we don't want to mess it up now."

"If you're referring to that incident outside Geneva, that wasn't my fault, he came out of nowhere –"

" –and we don't want to be hassled again because _someone_ forgets to have a cover story –"

" –it's not like he would tell anyone, anyway, he was a tramp, wasn't he? If anything you should've seen him, he came from the street _you_ were supposed to be watching–"

"and forgot to use his Disillusionment Charm–"

" – he was drunk, alright, it's not like he'd remember –"

The first man sighed with the air of one who had heard this all before, shaking his head with a mixture of exasperation and bemusement. He waved his stick once in the air, and the two fell silent as though invisible hands had covered their mouths.

"Will you two keep it down? We won't need to worry about Disillusionment Charms if someone comes up here and hears you two," he whispered. Ron rolled his eyes once and waved his hands around his head in an exasperated motion; for a minute, he looked like some sort of demented bird, and Harry laughed loudly in spite of himself. The girl gave him a pointed stare and, chuckling, he waved his wand and undid the Silencing Charm.

"Very funny, Potter," Ron said as soon as he was able to speak. Harry shrugged, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets to warm them up. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Prat."

"Git!"

"All right," Hermione said in a bored voice, rolling her eyes. "Harry, we're coming up on the village soon, it shouldn't be more than an hour away at most. You're sure this is the right one?"

"Positive," Harry replied, hoisting the rucksack he carried off his shoulder and crouching down to examine the contents. "That wizard we found in Interlaken said his contact was in a village near Wengen. He'll know where the Cup is for sure, we've been tracing the connections for the better part of two months."

Hermione nodded tiredly, rubbing her eyes with one hand and absently twirling her wand between the fingers of the other. Beside her, Ron sat down on a jutting rock on the outskirt of the clearing, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest. "The guy could've been lying."

"We've discussed this before," Harry interrupted, "it's the best lead we've got. We know that before Voldemort could make the Cup into a Horcrux, it fell into the hands of some antique dealer specialising in the four founders. We know that he sold it to that wizard we found in Interlaken. We know that after Voldemort came by and stole it again, the wizard's dealership partner followed him and saw him go into the mountains near Wengen. If we find that guy's contact, we'll be able to find where Voldemort hid the Cup, or at least the general area he hid it in."

He stopped to take a breath, staring at Ron, who scuffed his feet against the grass. "I was just talking, no need to write an essay on it, mate," he said, grinning. "That's Hermione's job."

"You little –" she glared at him, but as Ron grinned back at her, her annoyed stare slowly dissipated and her mouth curved into a gentle smile. Harry watched them, smirking. The two of them were growing ever closer, and it was a heartwarming thing to watch. Gone were the days back in their sixth year – it seemed so long ago, he mused – where they were at each other's throats every hour of every day. Now, subtle hints of growing affection were taking place – an innocent touch here, a smile there – and it lit the two of them up. They both loved each other, that much had been clear since second year – but because of the circumstances they couldn't move forward. And both of them were afraid to be the one to initiate the next step.

His friends were such blockheads sometimes. Couldn't they see how in love with each other they were? It astounded him that their furtive, far-away love had lasted for so long without blossoming into something more. At Hogwarts, he had spent countless days badgering them both, threatening to reveal their feelings if they didn't _"make a move already, damn it, we're growing old here"_ as he had eloquently stated. Every time Ron's face would burn crimson and he would mutter indistinctly about "not the right time" or "don't know how she feels" or "Krum." Hermione would do the exact same thing.

Now, as he watched them beam at each other, he felt that there was hope. Unfortunately, their bloody mission was the most important thing, and Ron and Hermione would have to wait yet again. "Hate to break this up, but we've got to move," he said. Both Hermione and Ron's smiles faded as they nodded, resignation creeping into their eyes as they got to their feet. It was as though they had aged countless years in mere seconds.

Not for the first time, Harry felt his heart wrench with sorrow and anger at the fact that they had to be here at all. His best friends – although "friends" was a very pale way to describe what they were now. They were brothers and sister, partners until the end, family in every sense. They would give their lives for him in a second, and he would return the favour without a moment's hesitation. They had sacrificed so much for him, giving up their families, their school, their own lives, to help him with this final quest, his burden. He both hated and loved the fact that they were doing this. Hated in the fashion that if anything was to happen to them, anything at all, it would be entirely his, Harry's, fault. Hated it because they had left their homes and their families to be with him. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would have given up long ago if it had not been for their support – for Hermione, whom he loved like a sister, with her brilliance, her knowledge, her endless capacity for kindness and bracing words of comfort that steeled him even on the worst of nights. And for Ron, the best friend he could have ever asked for, closer than a brother, with his sharp wit, his bland humour and his steadfast loyalty.

_If it weren't for them I'd be done for,_ Harry thought, looking into their faces, seeing the shadowy bags underneath their eyes, and the tired lines at their corners. Ron noticed his stare and gave him a wan smile. "Don't worry about it, mate. Let's just meet this guy, find the Horcrux and blow the hell out of it, yeah?" Harry nodded with renewed determination. "You got it."

He turned to Hermione. "Let's make sure we're still on course." Hermione nodded, her curls bouncing, as she laid her wand flat across her open palm. "_Point me,_" she whispered, and the wand spun around in her hand, the tip pointing into the dark trees some distance to their left.

"Over there, then," Harry said, and the two next him nodded. Without another word they headed into the trees again, vanishing between the winding branches of pine needles and into the breaking dawn.

x x x x

She crouched low, hiding behind the cover of trees, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain her breath. The fingers of her right hand were clenched so tightly around her wand that her joints had begun to ache. Slowly, she stuck her head out an inch to see where her assailant lay.

A split second later a hex slammed into the tree next to her and sent chips of bark and wood spiralling into the air.

She dove sideways, holding her wand tightly, as more curses exploded around her. Aiming through the trees at the shadowy figure at the edge of the tree line, she shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

A jet of crimson light burst from her wand and flew towards the figure; with a quick flourish of his wand, he yelled "_Protego!_" and her Stunning Spell bounced harmlessly away, exploding against a fence and sending a shower of red sparks into the air.

She wasn't done yet, though. Scrambling to find her footing, she aimed her wand directly at the cloaked man's heart, while at the same moment he trained his on her face. For a split second, neither moved. Then both acted at the exact same moment.

"_Impedimenta_!" she yelled.

"_Pulso_!" the man countered.

The man managed to dodge left and avoid her jinx, but she was not so lucky; as the man's curse hit her, she felt a crushing force in her lungs as something invisible smashed against her chest, sending her flying backwards into a tree. She crumpled to the ground, wheezing, her eyes sparking with fury.

_That little..._

She scrambled to her feet. The figure was steadily advancing on her, exiting the field and approaching the cluster of trees she was hiding in. His wand was held aloft, sending more hexes her way. She leaped left, then right, as a small hole was blasted into a tree next to her. As the man broke past the tree line, she pointed at the nearest branch over his head and cried, "_Diffindo_!"

The branch cracked loudly and broke away from the tree, falling with a sound _thump_ on her assailant's head. He fell with a curse, clutching his temple. Feeling a surge of triumph, she leaped out from behind her tree and barrelled towards him, wand directed at his twitching figure. "I've got you, don't move!" she said loudly, drawing near to him. The man stopped moving.

...and then, in a movement too quick to follow, he snatched his wand from where it had fallen and swung it upwards. Before she could react, she felt her body stiffen, her arms trapped uselessly at her sides as her wand slipped from between her fingers and fell with a soft thud on the dirt at her feet.

The man got to his feet, smiling grimly as she tried to thrash and wriggle out of the Body-Bind Curse he had set on her, but it was no use. He had her.

"Had enough yet?" the man asked her, and Ginny struggled against her bonds with renewed vigour. "Remus, that wasn't fair!"

Remus Lupin smiled blandly and raised one eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You cheated," Ginny muttered sullenly. "You said no non-verbal spells. I would have had you if it wasn't for that." Lupin chuckled, the lines in his face losing their intensity somewhat. "You should never believe anything the enemy tells you, Ginny. You should know that by now."

Ginny nodded, feeling ashamed. She should have known better. Almost every time she had a duelling session with Lupin, she was distracted by something in the back of her mind. Every time she needed to concentrate it flared up again, rising to the forefront of her memory and haunting her throughout the days, afternoons and evenings. Before she went to bed, when she woke up – it was there, always there.

Him. Harry.

His absence was like a constant ache within her chest, sometimes ebbing and strengthening, but refusing to abandon her completely. She missed him so fully – his laughter, the bright shine in his eyes when he looked at her, the simple way his mouth curved when he smiled – it was torture, to think of him. But she couldn't stop herself. The words he had spoken to her the day he left, over a year ago, reverberated within her mind: _"I've got to do this, Gin. I can't ask anyone else to die for me, or to blaze my trail. This is the way it has to be. But I swear I'll do whatever I can to end it, and I'll come back. I'll miss you."_

He had stuck to his word after Dumbledore's funeral. He had ended things with her, to protect her, to save her from Voldemort. But in protecting her life he had destroyed her heart.

_Is he okay? Has he accomplished whatever he said he had to do? And Hermione – my brother, Ron... are they okay? Is he keeping them safe? Are they keeping him safe?_

She hated herself for making herself worry like this, for constantly going over everything bad that could have happened to him on his journey. He could be injured, cold, sick. He could have been captured by Death Eaters – but surely she would have known it? They would have wanted to publicise it, make it known that the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had been captured at the hands of their Dark fuckhead Lord.

She took a deep breath and brought herself sharply back to the present.

"Are you going to let me down now that you've taught me Defence Against the Great Remus Lupin 101?" she asked boldly. Lupin chuckled again and waved his wand, and the force holding her was gone so suddenly that she nearly fell on her face. "Very funny," she said to him, dusting herself off and bending over to pick up her wand, tucking a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear.

"What?" Lupin asked. "You think I'm all smiling and happy with this big bump on my head? That's going to leave a bruise you know. Tonks is going to kill me; she made me swear not to get too into it."

Ginny smiled as she pictured Tonks, hair bright and molten lava red in her anger, glaring at Lupin until he quaked under her look. Her smile turned into a laugh, and Lupin returned it warmly, looking happy but older and greyer than ever before.

"We should get back," he said, his smile fading. Ginny nodded and tucked her wand into her robe pocket and followed him out of the woods and into the meadow, back towards the Burrow.

x x x x

**Mountains around a remote village near Wengen, Switzerland:**

"That's it, right there," Harry said, pointing down the hillside towards the small town nestled in the morning mist. The sun was bright and gold around them, but the light was deceiving and the cold mountain air sliced into their robes, making them shiver. Much further down the hillside, swathed in bright sunlight and the barest tendrils of fog, lay the village they were seeking. It was quite small, but it had a very quaint look about it, the houses and streets tucked into the surrounding hills and pine needle trees. Looking down at the town, Harry wondered why Voldemort would have wanted to hide a Horcrux in a place like this. It was too scenic, too pretty, and not morbid and dark like every other location he had chosen.

_Oh well, what do I care anyways? If it's down there it's down there, and I'm not going to complain. Let's just find the sodding thing so I can get back to Gin –_

_Stop._

His mouth tightened into a thin line. He didn't like to think of Ginny for too long, not if he could help it, anyways. Which he couldn't. But it hurt too much; every time he remembered the silken fire of her hair, the passionate strength in her eyes, her touch, her taste, he came undone. At such times, he could feel his resolve slip away, until he wanted nothing more than to abandon his quest and simply run back, back to the comfort and familiarity of her body, her face, her lips –

"Harry? Are you listening?"

Hermione's voice broke into his thoughts and the scene in his mind's eye evaporated like smoke. "Yeah, sorry Mione, I drifted off there for a second. What were you saying?"

She nodded towards the town. "We should make camp and get some rest before we go down there to find the contact. It's too early anyways, we'll be too conspicuous. Let's lie low until nightfall, okay?"

Harry nodded tiredly, growing ever aware of the heaviness of his limbs and the shuffle in his step. They had been going for over twenty four hours, and he was just about to burn out. What he wouldn't give to crawl into a nice, warm bed, sleep on a soft mattress...

_...and maybe someone else in that bed..._

"Okay, Hermione, you're right," Harry said, shaking his head to clear his mind. "Let's get some rest for now. Thanks." She nodded, giving him a look of affectionate understanding before she began to walk in circles around their current position, casting protective wards around them. "You sure you don't want help?" he called out to her. She glanced over her shoulder. "No, you go rest, Harry. You need it." She turned back to her spell casting. Harry shrugged, conceding defeat. They were close enough to the town that they could see it, but they were nestled in a grove of trees on the mountainside that would effectively hide them from view.

As Ron bounded away to the opposite side of the grove to cast more wards, Harry rummaged through his rucksack and withdrew a long, folded tent. He laid it on the ground, pointed his wand at it, and muttered, "_Erecto_." The tent immediately flared into shape, bursting upwards. Harry drew back the flap and ventured inside, pulling a small piece of fabric the size of his hand out of the rucksack. Pointing his wand at it, he said "_Engorgio_" and the fabric expanded until it took the shape of a wide, dirty quilt. Harry laid it on the floor of the tent, to protect himself from the cold chill of the earthy ground, before unrolling a dark green sleeping bag and burrowing into it.

As he wrapped himself within the warmth of the bag, he felt his eyelids grow heavy at once. He yawned once, hugely, before settling back again and feeling the full force of his exhaustion hit him at once. He closed his eyes, filled his mind with visions of a red-haired goddess, and let himself drift into the sweet oblivion of sleep.


	2. The Remnant

_Much thanks to those of you who have reviewed so far :) To answer you, RH4L, Remus and Ginny were at the Burrow, and Remus is not a professor again, he is just giving Ginny private training lessons. More of this will be explained in the next chapter_

_Please read and review, more reviews mean faster updates._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, just the characters I invent. _**  
**

**Interlaken, Switzerland:**

The long, narrow lane curved in a winding pattern, toward the heart of the city where pedestrians milled and laughed in the night. This street, however, was empty but for the moonlight, lighting the road with silver but marred by the deep and penetrating shadows of the bushes and hedges that lined the path.

With a distinctive _crack_, a man appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the lane. His huge, hulking shadow turned slightly, checking the lane for any sign of human life, but it was as empty and silent as it had been before his appearance. The only sounds of life were the commotions being raised at various taverns closer to the city centre.

Turning away, the hulking man began to travel up the path, heading towards a dark, two-storey building at the forefront of a large grouping of trees. His steps were quick and powerful, and surprisingly silent for a man so large. The black cloak he wore swished against the faint layering of snow that glinted upon the path like diamonds fallen from the stars.

He heard a noise up ahead and wordlessly Disillusioned himself, becoming the exact shade of the night in the flicker of an eye. Up ahead, a wizard was weaving drunkenly down the path, speaking in a loud, voracious voice to the giggling witch that clung to his arm.

As they passed by him, he could smell the pungent odour of Firewhiskey tainting the air about them. The witch's robes were wet all down the front, as she was slopping alcohol all over herself as she swung her tankard merrily, laughing at the wizard's comments.

He stepped off the path so as they wouldn't knock into him, for his huge, muscular frame was very difficult to miss. He resisted the urge to curse the fools into oblivion, as their happy-go lucky manner was irksome and their drunken voices loud and infuriating. But it was an unnecessary risk... he did not want to be disturbed by anybody until he chose to.

After their voices had faded away into the distance, he waited another couple minutes, just to be certain, before silently rendering himself visible and continuing down the frosted path. As he drew closer to the house, he noticed a light in the upstairs window, shining through a thicket of branches from a tree on the front lawn. An odd place to run a business, but he knew firsthand that this was the place. It had been many years, but his memory was sharp.

He walked up to the gate, its stakes pointing upward toward the star strewn sky. Next to the entrance, a wooden sign with words etched onto its surface proclaimed:

_Wilkin's Ancient Artifacts_

He pushed the gate open, grating his teeth in anger at the rusty squeak it emitted. He wordlessly swung his wand, freezing the open gate in place, and walked into the garden of the house, slowly and leisurely making his way up the winding dirt path as though he had all the time in the world. The rectangular windows were dark and the curtains were drawn.

He ascended the porch steps and stopped in front of the wooden door, eyeing the brass knocker that was in the shape of an intricate cup. Inwardly marvelling at the shopkeeper's nerve, while simultaneously wondering how he had survived this long, he promised himself he would conduct his business here in a decidedly more brutal fashion.

His lips pulled back across his gums in a sadistic grin, revealing sharp teeth looking as though they had been filed to points. He kept a secure grip on his black ironwood wand with his right hand, as he raised his left and pounded the knocker three times.

At first there was no response but for the howling of the wind as it tore through his cloak, sending it streaming behind him like black fire. He shook his head bemusedly. As if pretending to not be home would have any effect on him whatsoever. Just because he felt like it, he rang the knocker five more times, each hit growing more insistent.

Finally, a light snapped on in a window to his left, and he heard a wheezy muttering from within the house. "All right, hold yer horses, I'm coming! Wake a man at this hour, I'm closed, I tell ye! No respect nowadays –"

The muttering drew gradually closer as a wizard came up to the door. The man saw through the diamond pane of glass on the door that the wizard was incredibly short, balding, and had a wispy white beard. The tiny wizard flung the door open, his mouth open to launch into a fresh tirade, but as soon as the man saw him standing at the threshold, his mouth gaped open even farther and his eyes bulged to the size of Sickles.

For a moment there was harsh silence, broken only both the two mens' breathing – one slow and calm, the other quick and rapid. Then, a terrified squeak wrenched itself from within the tiny wizard's throat. "Y – you –"he choked out in a voice so small it was laughable.

"Me," the Remnant said.

He raised his arm and the wizard was suddenly hurled backward as though shot from a catapult; he slammed into the banister of a stairwell in the hall and crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. The Remnant crossed over the threshold, closing the door behind him with one hand. He aimed his wand at the wizard, who was trying to scramble away on all fours, like a cowering, beaten animal.

The Remnant flicked his wand and the wizard was thrown sideways into the wall. He heard the crack as one of the wizard's ribs broke, followed by a loud, pained scream. He pointed the wand again, levitating the wizard so that their faces were at the same height, and with a sharp jerk caused him to soar forward in the air until they were face to face. He listened to the wizard's pained gasps without pity.

"I take it you didn't know I was coming," the Remnant said in a low, dangerous tone. The deadly rumble of his voice caused the wizard to begin squeaking in a terrified manner and struggling against his invisible bonds. The Remnant have a harsh, cruel laugh before twisting the wand; the tiny wizard let out a fresh howl as his left pinkie finger broke loudly.

"Please, no more, no more!" the man sobbed. "What do you want? I'll give you anything, I swear!"

"I highly doubt you still retain what I want," the Remnant said coldly, "but perhaps you can still help me. I advise you that you do, otherwise your end will be much more painful than it needs to be."

The wizard, tears still rolling down his cheeks, nodded furiously. "Anything... anything, I swear..."

"Silence," the Remnant spat, jerking his wand again, and the wizard's head flew to the side as though he had been slapped. "I have no intention of listening to your pathetic begging. Now..." he began to walk slowly toward the room to the left of the staircase, holding the immobile wizard in the air before him. "You may recall that you had visitors some weeks ago, Wilkin," he said callously. "Three of them. I am not sure what they looked like – no doubt they disguised themselves. But I know what they asked of you. These three customers of yours, Wilkin... they wanted something. A terribly valuable trinket that you had in your possession many years ago, is that not so?"

The tiny wizard, Wilkin, was trembling and shaking so badly in the air it was as though he had been doused in icy water. "Please, no..." he whispered. "I – I don't know anything about that..."

"Such_ lies,_ Wilkin..."

The hiss of his voice died away as he closed his eyes. In his mind, he tore at Wilkin's head, thrusting his intrusive spikes at the man's mind, rupturing his defences, his feeble attempts at Occlumency. The terrified wizard tried to empty his thoughts, but although he was an Occlumens, his fear was so great that he could not focus properly.

The Remnant sifted through his mind, ignoring Wilkin's fear, and then an image came into focus: three cloaked adults, one with a greying beard, a hunchbacked old woman, another man with a cane...

"It seems, Wilkin, as though you did have visitors," the Remnant said in a deadly purr. "And they requested something of you, did they not? Perhaps... a cup of some sort?"

"P – please," Wilkin whispered, his eyes huge and filled with tears. "P – please, Cu –"

"SILENCE!" the Remnant suddenly roared, and using his wand he threw Wilkin from him with such force that he became a speeding projectile, slamming into a display case of ancient trinkets and shattering it. Wilkin screamed in agony as the Remnant, with a slash of his wand, picked him up and threw him into another wooden display box, causing the wood to splinter and crack and even more of Wilkin's bones to shatter.

The wizard cried and screamed as the Remnant walked into the living room-made-shop, advancing upon the cringing and sobbing form at his feet. "You will not call me by that abominable... _slave_ name," he hissed with such rage that Wilkin flinched, still whimpering in pain. "_Ever._ He is _dead_, do you hear me? DEAD!"

With a angry whirl of his wand, he caused a set of paintbrushes from a famous 1571 artist in Marseille to rise from the wreckage of their display box. He wrenched Wilkin into the air, flinging him against the wall, and spread his arms and legs. He then sent the paintbrushes speeding through the air like lethal arrows, watching in satisfaction as they impaled themselves into Wilkin's forearms and shins.

A flood of agonized screams broke free from the wizard as blood ran down the walls, pooling on the floor at his feet. The Remnant slowly walked up to Wilkin and jammed his wand into the wizard's neck.

"Where," he growled, "is the boy? _Where is Harry Potter?_"

"I don't know!" Wilkin screamed at once. "He was never here! I swear, I don't know!"

"You don't know," the Remnant said softly. "You don't know..."

He twirled his wand, causing the paintbrushes to twist themselves around in his wounds. Wilkin let out another gut-wrenching scream.

"I don't know! He – yes, he was here, the Potter boy, he was here weeks ago – but he left when he found out I did not have the Cup! I swear! I didn't know where the Cup was, and I told him so, and – no, wait, _wait_!"

The Remnant cut his wand through the air and dealt a wordless Slashing Hex to Wilkin, who bellowed in agony as a series of sharp abrasions cut into the flesh of his chest, slicing his pyjamas to ribbons.

"I_ swear!_ I do not know where Potter is! I told him I didn't have it! I knew not where it was, I told him to find Jonas! He was the one who knew, I do not!"

The Remnant kept his wand pointed between Wilkin's eyes, but did not move it. He stared into Wilkin's panicked brown eyes with his own steel grey ones, thinking.

"Jonas? Your cowardly compatriot?" the Remnant laughed harshly. "You sent the Cup to that fool? He's even more cowardly than you are, you dolt. As soon as I find him, he will hand me Potter on a silver platter."

"I – I do not know," Wilkin stammered, "he may be there... Potter... Jonas may know... in the village..."

"Speak in full sentences, you fool," the Remnant said, and Wilkin flinched so horribly that his entire body jerked. "I have no intention of deciphering pieces of your inane babble. Where is Jonas now?"

"A village," Wilkin gasped, "a village... close to Wengen... he works there as an architect..."

"Wengen," the Remnant mused. "Very well."

He removed the wand from between Wilkin's eyes, and the tiny wizard sighed audibly in relief. This did not go unnoticed by the Remnant, who grinned savagely.

"You think I will let you go now, Wilkin? Is that what you thought?"

Wilkin's eyes bulged in fear. "P – please, I told you... w-what I know... I don't know anything else..."

"That is true," the Remnant said quietly. "You helped me..."

"Y – yes," Wilkin whispered, hardly daring to believe his luck. Then the Remnant's face hardened, and his eyes were but two chips of metal, emotionless and cold.

"Yet you also lied to me," the Remnant growled, in a voice throbbing with barely controlled fury. "You told me Harry Potter had never been here. You tried to play me like a fool. Is that not so?"

"No!" Wilkin cried. "No, I – I swear!"

"Even now you lie to me," the Remnant spat, no sentiment in his voice but wrathful hate. "You have made your bed; now lie in it."

"No, no, _please_!"

He raised his wand and pointed it right at Wilkin's throat.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

With a harsh tearing noise, the skin of Wilkin's neck ripped apart, and blood flowed profusely from the seething wound. Wilkin made a choking gasp, which turned into a gurgle as the blood filled his mouth. For several seconds, he twisted and writhed against the paintbrushes, before finally letting out a soft gurgle. His head fell limply against his chest.

"I regret it," the Remnant said coldly, walking up to the hanging body and waving his wand once. With it, he drew a symbol on the wall in Wilkin's own blood: a circle, with a small piece cut out of it. A broken circle. Everyone would know he had been there. Everyone would know how cruel and wrathful he could be, and they would tremble. He would be feared. "I regret it... my old friend."

He turned and exited the room, went through the door and down into the dark night, turning on the spot and vanishing into the air, before the dark, empty house. His master called.

x x x x

**Mountains around a remote village near Wengen, Switzerland: **

With a tired wave of his wand, Ron set up the final ward around their little campsite and sat down on a rock at the edge of the clearing. He shivered slightly in the cold, biting air; it was December and definitely not a good idea to be out in just a sweater and worn, ratty robes.

He looked over at the other edge of the clearing, where Hermione was walking around the perimeter of their camp, muttering under her breath as she cast spells to ensure their safety. A small smile crept across his face as he watched her: such a perfectionist, a maddening stickler for details, and so _beautiful_.

He couldn't believe that even after so many months of wandering through dense forests, traversing mountains, and sleeping in the wilderness she could still be so incredibly, utterly perfect. Her hair, while straggly and bushy and unbrushed, still shone in the daylight like silken chocolate and framed her pale, flawless face at night when she slept. Her pink, enticing lips, so soft and shiny that it was all he could to keep himself from seizing her and crushing his mouth to hers, probing her mouth with his tongue, making her moan into his mouth and call his name in her breathy, sexy voice.

And her _body_, God. Half the time he was afraid she could see what it was doing to him. But she just looked so magnificent that he couldn't help but stare at her like a besotted idiot, admiring her delicious hourglass figure, the soft fullness of her breasts, the sculpting curve of her thighs, her ass, her...

"Ron?"

Hermione's soft voice broke through his daydreaming. He looked up at her, to where she was standing before his body sprawled out on the rock. Her hands were on her hips, and she looked exasperated.

_God, she's gorgeous._

"Weren't you listening to me? I was calling you from across the clearing, I want to know if you're done putting up the wards."

"Oh," Ron said, then inwardly kicking himself for his feeble response. "I mean, yeah, I did. It's all done, we can relax for a while."

Hermione's annoyed expression faded into one of soft relief. "Great," she murmured, stretching; as her back arched and her arms reached upward, Ron caught the barest glimpse of a strip of pale, white skin from her belly. He fought to keep his body still, to control his trembling. He refused to look at her chest as it was thrust towards him.

"You look beat," he said, and he was both surprised and proud of how his voice managed to control its waver. "Why don't you go lie down in the tent? I can take first watch."

Hermione shook her head, curls bouncing. Her hair shone brightly, lustrous and sleek in the sunlight. "No, Harry's resting in there, I don't want to wake him up. He's even more exhausted than we are."

And it was true. As they drew ever closer to Hufflepuff's elusive Cup, Harry had adopted his manic, overpowering drive to shoulder the burden, to always watch over them while they tracked it down, to take the night watch without being asked, every day. Ron and Hermione both knew that Harry felt guilty for the entire ordeal, as though it was his fault that they hadn't seen their families in over a year, as though they hadn't come on the voyage without a second's hesitation.

_It's not him. It's Voldemort. Bloody, fucking Voldemort._

"D'you want to lie down out here?" Ron asked. "You can have my cloak as a blanket."

Hermione beamed at him, with that bright, sunny smile of hers that made his heart melt. "I'm not going to take your cloak, silly. You'd freeze to death!"

"So long as you're nice and warm, mademoiselle," he teased, and Hermione swatted his arm playfully. He smiled at her and scooted off the rock, leaning against it with his back and stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Here," he said, motioning to his lap. "Lie down, you look dead on your feet."

Hermione looked down at his muscled legs and gulped audibly. "Okay," she said in a tiny, breathy voice, before she lay down on the cold ground and rested her head in Ron's lap. His heart thundered in his chest, and despite the cold air, his cheeks blazed warmly. Hermione's face was turned slightly away from him, but he could see two faint pink spots on both of her cheeks.

She shivered against his legs and he realized how cold she must be. He squirmed slightly, causing Hermione to lift her head, as he dug his wand out from beneath him and cast a quick Warming Spell. Immediately, the air around them became warm and comfortable, and Ron felt his shoulders slowly lose their tension. Hermione gave a little sigh and snuggled up closer to him. Ron swallowed hard and hesitantly reached out his arm toward her shoulder.

_Just put your arm around her, you idiot!_ He raged at himself. Strange how he could face death without flinching, was unafraid of fighting a group of Death Eaters, but that putting his arm around Hermione's shoulders terrified him more than the latter.

_Well, if you don't move, she's going to look up and see your arm just hovering above her. That won't look stupid._ With that thought, Ron bit his lip and wrapped her in his arm before he could stop himself.

He felt Hermione tense beneath his arm for a split second. Her breathing sped up a fraction. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. Hermione gave a high, shaky laugh that didn't sound at all like her. "Mmm-hmm," she replied, leaning into his arm. Ron pulled her closer to him, wrapping her more securely in his arm. For a while, neither of them moved, and instead lay on the grass, looking through the dappled sunlit trees and gazing at the small town nestled in the hills before them.

Ron was concentrating so acutely on their positions that he almost didn't hear Hermione speak over the pumping of his heart. "Do you think that old wizard's partner still lives down there?" Hermione murmured into his lap. Ron shrugged gently. "I'm not sure. I think he does though, that antique bloke seemed pretty certain. Mind you, _I'm_ surprised he even told us where to find the Cup."

Hermione shifted guiltily against him. Ron laughed. "I didn't have a choice," Hermione burst out, turning her face towards him, her eyes wide and pleading. "We needed to find the Horcrux, Ron! It's not like I _wanted_ to Confund him... honest, I didn't mean to –"

"Relax," Ron chuckled, moving his other arm towards her head and beginning to stroke her hair with one hand, praying it wasn't the wrong thing to do. Hermione let out a tiny sigh and arched her back slightly, so he assumed it was all right by her. "I was just kidding. We do what we have to in order to find these things, remember. Plus, it's not like we hurt him or anything."

"I know," Hermione sighed as he worked his fingers through her warm tresses. "I still feel a bit bad about – ahh," she shivered. "That feels nice."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm."

He continued to stroke her hair as they both looked up at the sky, gazing into the deep blue canvas that stretched above them, flecked with streaks of white clouds. "It's beautiful," Hermione murmured as she looked upward. Ron stared into her eyes, the great soft chocolate brown orbs speckled with the reflections of the sky and looking like perfect marbles.

_Yeah, you are._

"If it weren't for the whole Horcrux hunt," Hermione was saying, "this would be really nice."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, his arm firm around her, looking around at the sunlight forest. At one edge of the clearing, beyond the limits of their wards, a group of deer were grazing in the emerald foliage, their thin bodies alluring and strangely comforting to watch. All around them, the wind ruffled the grass gently, and the sleepy town before them sat stationary in the surrounding green of the hills.

"Have you seen anything more beautiful than that?" Hermione whispered, staring at the deer and the town beyond.

"Just one thing," Ron said quietly, drinking in the sight of her porcelain skin, her delicate face. She turned her head slightly, gazing into his eyes with a bright and curious intention, before blushing slightly and turning away. A brief silence ensued, and he kicked himself for how obvious he had just been. "Are you worried about the next Horcrux?" he asked awkwardly, more to break the silence than anything else.

She nodded once, still staring at the deer. "What if this is the one that finishes us, Ron?" she asked softly. "Harry almost died trying to get the locket the first time. And then the second... I don't even want to think about how close that was..." her voice faded away. Ron swallowed and closed his eyes, remembering.

After Bill and Fleur's wedding, they had gone over everything they had known about the Horcruxes for months, never getting any closer to where the real locket was, or where the other Horcruxes were hidden. Eventually, Harry had had an epiphany about R.A.B., after remembering that they had found a similar locket at Grimmauld Place in the summer before their fifth year. After a quick glance at the Black Family Tree, they found that R.A.B. had been none other than Sirius's brother Regulus. However, they still had no idea what he had done with the locket, or whether he had managed to destroy it.

They had searched Grimmauld Place, tracked Regulus's history through journals, diaries, and artifacts in the house, and had eventually realized that he had gone missing for several months before the family got the news of his death. Ron and Harry had assumed that he had merely gone into hiding to avoid Voldemort, but Hermione had suggested that he may have not been wanted by the Dark Lord yet, and was perhaps trying to destroy his Horcrux without being discovered. They tried finding out where he had gone, but no record remained of his whereabouts, at least not in Grimmauld Place. Nobody remained from the family to question about his disappearance, either.

Except, Harry noted, for Kreacher.

They had summoned the elf, who had grudgingly admitted that he knew something about Regulus's disappearance that nobody else from the family had known, because Regulus had known nobody would ever question the elf as to where he had gone. Since Regulus was Kreacher's favourite, Regulus had told him that he would be going away, somewhere north of the British Isles, to try to seek out anyone with knowledge of how to destroy Horcruxes. After more months of searching, the Trio found an aged witch in northern Ireland, who Regulus had tracked down who apparently had knowledge of Horcruxes, as she had learned of the matter through her brother, who used to attend Durmstrang and who Regulus had encountered in the ranks of the Death Eaters. The witch had informed Regulus of how to destroy Horcruxes, but before he could manage it, a group of Death Eaters captured him. Here the trail went cold, but Harry assumed Regulus had been murdered by the Death Eaters, the locket had fallen back in Voldemort's possession, and had been hidden once more. They eventually found the locket hidden in an underground cavern close to the old Riddle House, guarded by a large variety of curses and hexes, and in addition, a savage Chimaera.

Destroying it had been no mean feat, but they had done it, and it had taken them almost a whole year. They had spent the remainder of their time tracking down the Cup, and doing research on Rowena Ravenclaw's past. They had managed to narrow the possibility of what her Horcrux was to either the Crown she wore when she was alive, or an enchanted flute that she used to play from atop Ravenclaw Tower at Hogwarts.

However, they still couldn't find any trace of either artifact, so they had turned to the Cup. And here they were.

"We're going to be fine," Ron insisted firmly. "We'll get the Cup. We'll find that object of Ravenclaw's. Then all we have to do is get that sodding snake, and Voldemort will be mortal again." He had long since gotten over his fear of the name – partly because Harry had threatened to curse his ears off unless he started to say it.

"How do you know?" Hermione asked miserably, looking up at him. He summoned a courageous smile and spoke in a voice with much more enthusiasm than he actually felt. "Because we're all together. Nothing can beat us. Harry's too determined to let us down, he'll fight to his last breath to get it. And with you on our side, we can't lose. You're smarter than Voldemort ever has been, or ever will be. We trust you. I trust you."

Hermione still looked doubtful, but she sniffled once before sitting up and burying her head in his shoulder. "Thanks, Ron," she whispered, curled up against him. Ron's arms developed a mind of their own and wrapped themselves around her, as his brain was too stunned to function. He inhaled deeply, immersing himself within the scent of cinnamon, swimming in her hair, and the clean, soft smell of her skin. He rubbed her arms, trying to calm her. "We'll be fine. Don't worry."

The two of them sat there, watching as the sun gradually climbed higher in the sky.

_Nothing will hurt you. I promise._


End file.
